Binding 13 (Boys of Tommen, #1)

by Chloe Walsh

“You’re a good boy.” A good boy? Was I a bleeding dog? And there was nothing good about what I wanted to do to Shannon Lynch.

“First, for the last bleeding time, Shannon is not my girlfriend,” I snapped, flustered. “Second, I haven’t been a virgin since first year. And third, I can roll a condom on in the dark with one hand tied behind my bleeding back, so I don’t need the sex talk, or tips, or any of that shite.” Mam gasped in horror and I mentally kicked the shite out of myself.

Shit. Balls. “I am a virgin,” I continued to say over and over while my mother cried into my school jumper. “I’m saving myself for marriage, Ma.” “It’s the rugby,” she sobbed, fisting my jumper. “I blame the bleeding rugby for this.”

In the space of one day, I had upset no less than three females. The one that created me by telling her that I was no longer an innocent. The one that used me by telling her via text message to fuck off. And the one that blew my fucking mind.

“You meddler,” I accused. “You sexer,” Mam shot back in a tone as equally accusing.

I was not, however, prepared for the sight of Johnny’s naked ass. He was standing in front of his chest of drawers with his back to me, a towel on the floor at his feet, and was in the process of pulling a pair of boxers up his thighs. God, he even had muscles on his ass. How was that even possible? And then Johnny glanced over his shoulder and caught me red-handed. “Like what you see?” he teased, arching his brow.

His chest was bare and his pectorals were toned, his stomach ripped. I mean, he was seriously ripped. Not like the six-pack my brother sported or any of the lads I’d seen swapping jerseys after Joey’s matches. His entire body was a solid mass of hard-core, chiseled muscle. I held my breath as I allowed my eyes to wander over him, absorbing the sight of rippled abs, sun-kissed golden skin, the dark trail of hair under his navel, and that amazing way he smelled. Like soap and grass and Johnny.

“What happened here?” Johnny asked then, distracting me from my ogling as he stalked over to where I was standing and stroked his thumb across my cheek. Confused and frazzled, I let out a shaky breath and looked up at him. “Huh?” “You have a red mark,” Johnny mumbled, frowning down at me. “I didn’t notice it earlier.” My brows rose up. “I do?” He nodded, blue eyes locked on mine. “Yes, Shannon, you do.”

I didn’t think he realized he was doing it—brushing his body against mine. His focus had moved from my cheek to my neck. His expression was dark, face turning a dark shade of purple. “What the fuck is this?” he hissed.

I followed his gaze to the faint purplish fingerprints lining my neck. Awareness dawned on me. My dad. Last night. Oh god. “I don’t know,” I replied, feigning confusion, deciding it was safer to stick to the original story. If I backpedaled now, Johnny would smell a rat. “You don’t know?” he asked quietly, eyes locked on mine in the mirror.

Then his fingers were tracing the fingerprints left by my father, his featherlight touch making my entire body tremble. “Someone touched you,” Johnny whispered in my ear, placing his fingers on the marks. “I want to know who.”

“Tell me who put their hands on you,” he coaxed as he stood behind me, my face in his hand and his fingers on my throat. “And I’ll make it better.”

Johnny hovered in the bathroom doorway, expression tight, eyes sharp and intelligent. “So, the hand of one of the lads in your class just so happened to land on your neck?”

“But I guess that’s what happened.” “You guess?” he repeated, folding his arms across his chest. The movement caused his huge biceps to bulge. He was seriously huge. It was incredibly intimidating. But I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

Inhaling a steadying breath, I added, “Maybe he caught me when he was trying to stand up.” “Maybe,” Johnny mused, nodding in agreement. I sagged in relief. “Or maybe it was those Legos again.”

“Was it?” Johnny demanded. “Did you fall over the same Legos getting those fingerprints on your throat that you did when you busted up your face on your birthday?” “Johnny—” “And how about the bruise on the back of your neck the time before that? Or the red mark on your face the time before that again? Or the bruises on your thighs? And your arms? And the rest of you?” He glared at me. “Was that those pesky Legos, too?”

“No. No! Don’t do that,” Johnny called me right out on my diversion. “Don’t try and brush me off,” he growled. “I want to know what happened to you, Shannon.”

Exhaling a pained groan, Johnny closed the space between us and crouched in front of me. “I want to help you.” He placed his hands on my outer thighs and looked up at me, blue eyes wide and sincere. He squeezed my thighs gently. “All you have to do is tell me what’s happening, okay?” Reaching up, he tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. “Just tell me who’s hurting you and I’ll make it go away.”

“I’m okay, Johnny,” I croaked out, feeling the tears pooling my eyes. “You don’t need to help me.” “You’re lying to me,” he growled, looking furious. “You’re fucking lying to me, and I can’t stand it.”

Johnny’s dog shifted closer to me, distracting me from my meltdown, and plopped her head on my thigh. “Hi,” I sobbed, dropping my hand on her head.

Johnny shook his head and turned his back to me again. “Don’t apologize to me for seeing you,” he groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Fuck!”

“I can’t be alone with you like this,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine. “I…” He exhaled a ragged breath. “Not here…not when you look like that.” His eyes were heated and full of uncertainty and roaming wildly over my body. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, mirroring my own.

Releasing an unsteady breath, I reached up, grabbed Johnny’s neck, and pulled his face down to mine. And then I kissed him.

FINALLYYYYY

Not only did I flash Johnny Kavanagh, but I went one further and kissed him. My first kiss. The first time I ever put my lips on a boy. And he didn’t reciprocate.

Someone put their hands on her. Those kinds of marks didn’t happen in a bleeding ruck, never mind during a soccer game in P.E. It was ridiculous, and she was ridiculous for feeding me that line.

I played rugby. I’d spent my whole life knocking up injuries and knocking lads out. I knew the goddamn difference between accidental damage and intentional harm. Someone squeezed her throat, and they did it so hard they left fucking fingerprints on her.

Because my being here was temporary and that girl reeked of permanence. The best I could offer was friendship, even if that was the last thing I wanted.

“I am so sorry.” “I don’t want you to be sorry,” he replied, blue eyes burning into mine. “What happened in my room?” Shaking his head, he released a pained growl. “I didn’t expect it… I didn’t expect you.” His breath fanned my face as he spoke, causing my body to shiver involuntarily. “I don’t regret it,” he added. “And I don’t regret you doing that—”

“Okay? I know that. It was wrong. I understand. I just…I just…” “You just what, Shannon?” he coaxed. “I thought you liked me,” I strangled out. “Jesus Christ,” Johnny groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Of course, I like you.” He tugged on his hair and sighed. “I think it’s pretty fucking clear that I’m mad about you.”

“My career is taking off and I need to stay focused. And you deserve someone who can put you first.”

“I can’t do that.” He looked me right in the eyes and said, “I want to—I really fucking want to. But I’m not in the position to do that for you.” Exhaling heavily, he added, “I can’t give you a relationship, Shannon, and it would be selfish of me to ask you for something I can’t follow through on.”

I didn’t think there was any other way I could be, given the circumstances. I kissed him. He rejected me. I put myself out there for him. He turned me down.

I was halfway down the staircase with my uniform balled up in my hands when there was a knock on the front door. Pausing midstep, I squinted my eyes and tried to make out who the tall shadow outside the frosted glass could be. Another knock came, louder this time, so I hurried down the remaining steps and wrenched the door open, only to find Johnny standing outside in the rain, looking like some sort of semidrowned angel.

“Hi,” Johnny replied, blue eyes locked on mine. “You live at ninety-five.” I nodded, mortified. “I thought your house was number eighty-one?” He frowned. “That’s where I’ve been dropping you off.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Johnny rocked back on his heels, considering me for a brief moment before blowing out a breath. “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” I whispered, not feeling one bit okay.

His gaze flicked to my neck then, and his expression instantly darkened.

Like the creeper I was, I sank down on the foot of my bed, reached for his jacket, and held it to my chest. His smell was everywhere. On his jacket. On me. Holding the drenched fabric, I inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of his deodorant and then mentally chastised myself for being such a freak.

At school, they watched each other’s moves constantly. He was always coming over to her, cracking jokes and making pointless conversation. They behaved like an old married couple when they were together, with witty banter and quick retorts, and I couldn’t figure out why they weren’t a couple already.

“Any girl who walks past that boy turns his head.” “Yeah, but you haven’t just turned his head, Claire,” I told her. “I think you’ve turned his heart.”

“He’s a fool, you know,” she added. “You’re gorgeous, and kind, and sweet, and loyal, and a million other brilliant things he’ll never find in whores like that Bella Wilkinson.” “Thank you,” I replied, appreciating her attempt to console me.

“Then why didn’t he kiss you back?” she demanded. “Because he doesn’t want me,” I bit out. “Obviously.” “Then he’s insane,” she grumbled. “If I had a penis or liked girls, I would want you.”

“No, Claire,” I urged. “I mean he’s really beautiful.” Closing my eyes, I whispered, “Under the clothes.” “Oh my god!” she screamed in my ear. “How do you know what’s under his clothes?” “Because he took a shower and he was only half-dressed when I came out—” “Came out of where?” “His shower.”

“I thought you liked me.” Well, fuck me, my heart just about cracked when she said those words.

“How bad, Johnny?” Gibsie coaxed. Exhaling a pained growl, I turned in my seat to face him. “She kissed me.”

Gibsie grinned. “Nothing else?” “Nothing else,” I repeated, enunciating the word nothing. “Did you see—” “Yes,” I snapped and then groaned loudly. “Fuck.” “And?” “Perfect.” “Fuck.” “Yep.”

“You’re a little stupid for a genius, aren’t ya?” Gibsie mused. I turned to glare at him. “Excuse me?” “You drive her home multiple times, you take her out to the pub, to the cinema, you bring her home to your house—twice—and then she kisses you, and you reject her,” he shot back. “What did you expect her to do? Sit there and listen to it?”

“Why does it have to work?” he asked. “Because I need her—” I shook my head and expelled another frustrated breath. “Because I want to keep her in my life.” “You want to keep her, period,” Gibsie countered. “Because you are ass over tit in love with that girl.”

“Do you know that she’s insanely good at PlayStation? Like fucking gamer good?” Gibsie looked at me with surprise. “No shit?” I nodded. “She kicked my ass, lad. I’ve never seen anyone clear missions as fast as she did.” He exhaled another cloud of smoke and tossed his cigarette out the window. “Did she have a cheat sheet with her?” “She didn’t need one,” I muttered as I pressed a button and rolled up the windows. “She had every bleeding code memorized.” “Oh god,” Gibsie groaned. “That is so fucking sexy.”

Lololol

My uniform was the only thing I had in common with the girl standing in front of me. She was much older than me—and much more beautiful. Her black hair was cut in one of those classy bob-style haircuts that all the celebrities were currently sporting, and her face was flawless. She was tall and had a killer hourglass figure with huge boobs bulging against the fabric of her navy jumper.

Ew bella

“I’m Bella,” she announced, pushing off the sink. “And that”—she snatched the jacket out of my hands—“does not belong to you.” My heart dropped into my ass. “How did you get this?” she asked. Her tone was still light but her expression was thunderous. “Did Johnny give it to you?”